THE CHILDREN AT GRANDMOTHER'S.   HERE was once a grandmother who had fourteen little grandchildren. Some of them were cousins to one another; and some were brothers and sisters. This grandmother lived in an old, old cottage not far from the sea-beach. The cottage had a long sloping roof; and there was an elm-tree in front of it. One fair day in June, the boys went down to the sea-beach to bathe, and the girls went out on the lawn to play.... more...

THE WILD BEES' HOME. Wild bees of the wood are we;But our hive you must not see:Here behold our happy home,Where we labor, where we roam.Brooks that on their shining bosomsCatch the overhanging blossoms;Banks all bright with clustering flowers,—Here is where we pass our hours.Seldom on this solitudeDoes a girl or boy intrude;Few among you are awareWhat a home is ours, so fair!In the brook are little fish;You would like them on a dish:Keep... more...

LOOK OUT FOR THE ENGINE!   ALLY and Bob were making a bonfire in the woods. They had come to spend the whole day, and had brought their dinner in a basket; and Carlo, their little dog, kept watch of it while they gathered sticks and leaves. They soon had a large pile heaped up in the middle of the road which led through the forest. "For," said Bob, "we must make the fire where it won't do any mischief." When all was ready, Bob lighted a... more...

WORK AND PLAY.   O you want your sidewalk shovelled?" This was the question asked of Mr. Prim, as he sat reading his newspaper, one New Year's morning. The question came through a servant who had just answered the door-bell. Mr. Prim looked out of the window. The snow was still falling. So he sent out word, "No shovelling wanted till the storm's over," and went on with his reading. By and by there was another ring at the door; and in a... more...

THE STORY OF THE SPARROWS.   E are little English sparrows. We have been two years in America. We were brought over by Mr. Wakefield's gardener. He let us loose in the grove; and there we have been ever since. Mr. Wakefield has built little houses for us, and put them on the boughs of the trees. We go into these houses when it rains hard or blows. Once the doors of our houses were all blocked up with snow. The winters here are much... more...

EBONY AND LUCY.   BONY is the name of Lucy's black dog. I will leave you to guess why he is so called. On a bright, cold winter day, when no wind was stirring, and the ice of the pond was smooth as glass, Lucy went out, followed by Ebony. Such joyful barking as there was! Her father knew that the good dog would pull her out of the water, if the ice should break through. But the day was so cold, there was little danger from thin ice. A... more...

"CHRISTMAS PRESENTS MADE HERE."   BOUT a year ago, Edwin had a Christmas present of a jig-saw. If Santa Claus brought it, then Santa Claus did a good thing for himself; for last Christmas his pack was loaded down with presents of Edwin's manufacture. Nice little brackets to set up against the wall, nice little bedsteads, book-shelves, toy-houses, frames for pictures, card-baskets,—these are but a few of the great variety of things... more...

THE BIOGRAPHY OF A BUBBLE.   HE papa who writes this biography of a bubble never wrote a biography before in all his life. This is his first printed work. Perhaps some old person will criticise it severely. "Why use such big words as 'biography' and 'criticise'?" this old person may ask. "Are you not writing for little people? Is not your subject a poor little bubble that could not have lived longer than three or four seconds?" To which... more...

THE MORNING AFTER THE PARTY. MARY (angrily).   Tommy, you deceiver!You've turned a regular thiever:I've let the light in on your deeds,You needn't sneak away.You thought it mighty pleasantTo devour that dainty pheasant;Which cook and I for breakfast meantTo have this very day. TOM (calmly). Miss Mary, I assure youYou're entirely mistaken:I was finishing my supper—Don't call me thief or brute,But please be so obligingAs to broil a... more...

"CLEAR THE COAST!" C LEAR the coast! clear the coast!" cried Albert and Frank, as they came down hill swiftly on Frank's new sled. "Look out for that woman!" cried little Harry, who was standing at the top of the hill. A poor German woman was crossing the road. She had a large basket full of bundles, which she carried on her head. In her right hand she had an umbrella and a tin pail, and on her arm another basket. Truly, seeing that the... more...